When At War
by Britani Gael
Summary: After the Kharlan War, before the Renegades – Kratos and Yuan disagree on right and wrong and just how far they’re willing to go.


**Title**: When at War  
**Author**: Britani Gael  
**Fandom**: Tales of Symphonia  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Words**: 1954  
**Summary**: After the Kharlan War, before the Renegades – Kratos and Yuan disagree on right and wrong and just how far they're willing to go.  
Author's Notes: Found on my hard drive and brought back from the dead. I'm not certain about the characterizations of Yuan and Kratos I had going here – wrote this a long time ago, after all – but I liked what I saw and ran with them.

----

"_When you have killed many people  
You weep for them in sorrow_—

---

Yuan often thought he losing his mind and maybe he really was, because he could have sworn Kratos had a personality before he started wearing that cursed charm on the back of his hand. He'd had a temper, he'd occasionally used foul language. He'd even made jokes, and laughed when jokes were told in his presence. And then Mithos had asked him to use the exsphere and it'd nearly killed him and when he finally woke up he was never quite the same.

He was the new Kratos. So much improved you could mistake him for a robot.

"I am loathe to rebuild the structure," Kratos was saying. "Not until the problem is resolved. I believe it would be detrimental to our purposes to have these renegades burning one Church of Martel after another."

It had only taken a few hundred years to make Tethe'Alla believe that salvation was within the four walls of the churches Cruxis had constructed nearly everywhere; Sylvarant was taking more work. A convincing movement of rebels was spreading throughout the country, insisting that the religion was a lie and worse: a conspiracy of evil.

They were convincing because they were right, of course. Their hobbies included destroying artifacts of the false religion, and lucky for them that the most obvious symbols were made almost entirely of wood.

"I don't really understand what the problem is, here," Yuan said. "Just send a horribly frightening prophet to declare the truth of the word of... Lord Kratos, or whoever. I don't actually care."

Kratos glared. "That won't work."

"Then I'm out of ideas." That actually surprised him, more than a little. And as loathe as he was to ask Kratos to explain himself… "And why won't it work?"

"Mithos believes they are receiving inside information. They won't believe an angel if they know what it really is."

"And you know it for a fact. That's why you brought me here."

Kratos nodded.

Itwasme, Yuan was tempted to shout. It hadn't been, of course. He was tired and apathetic and he still didn't want to die, especially not at the hands of his former friends. Kratos wouldn't have believed him, anyway. They wouldn't be having this conversation if Kratos had any doubts about his loyalty. Still, the implication suggested a traitor of a rank much higher than the average Desian idiot or mindless angelic doll.

Someone was asking to be taken apart, creatively and painfully. Mithos was still a child, yes. His imagination knew no limits.

Yuan sighed through his teeth. "What would you have me do?" he asked.

"I've been intentionally releasing false information to various branches of Cruxis—including you. Forgive me," Kratos said, without inflection or remorse. So that explained his faith in Yuan's loyalty. "I wasn't as cautious as I might have been, and the traitor started catching on. However, I believe I've found him out."

"Oh? Enlighten me."

"Menaius."

Yuan paused for a beat. "Are you serious?"

Lord Menaius was a Grand Cardinal, and had been for the last hundred and fifty years. He was easily the most respected, most influential of all the Desians, and his loyalty would probably be rewarded with the possibility of ascension to heaven – or it would have been, had he not betrayed them.

Yuan could hardly stand him, naturally. He could hardly stand anyone.

Shocking as it was, he didn't doubt Kratos was right. He couldn't remember the last time the man had been wrong.

"I am very serious, and I'm certain."

Yuan crossed the room, and sat down behind his desk. He rubbed his temples and he dearly hoped that none of the blood to be spilled would be his own.

"All right," he said, after a long moment. He looked back at Kratos. "What would you have me do?"

He could see it already, he didn't need to wait for Kratos' response. They would draw their battle plans, they would march on the human ranch, and they wouldn't even bother consulting Mithos. They hardly needed to, after all. Even Yuan could tell what their orders would be.

—_Kill them all_.

----

They fought with their wings out. It had nothing to do with practicality – fighting the renegades mean they were fighting on the ground, with swords and machines and magic. But when the attackers wore white wings and the victims were earth bound, it changed a massacre into divine retribution.

Appearance changed everything, and Yggdrassill didn't know the meaning of hypocrisy.

It didn't matter. That man wasn't even here.

"Sir?"

"What is it?" Yuan snapped, looking over his shoulder at the team that had assembled behind him. Desians, dressed in heavy armor and lined up in neat rows, ready to kill.

"Lord Yuan, sir," the captain said nervously. "We're ready to move into the ranch."

Menaius had turned his ranch into a center for his uprising, and apparently he turned all his resources toward keeping that a secret, since his defenses were pitiful. Under Kratos' command the angels had battered down the outer walls in less than an hour.

The man was nothing if not efficient.

"I'll head in," Yuan said. Anything was better than watching this.

The captain nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll inform the army—"

"No." Yuan waved him off. The last thing he wanted was an army behind him, a thousand sets of eyes watching his every move – he didn't even know what he was planning on doing. Absolutely nothing, most likely. "Give me a scouting party."

"Sir?"

It showed how little authority he had, that men like the captain even though about questioning him. "You heard me," Yuan snapped, and he didn't even wait for a response. He started forward, and he wasn't halfway down the hill when he heard the scurrying of a dozen booted feet behind him.

Back when their plans had been grand and their foresight short, Yuan had contributed eagerly. He'd laid out plans for fortresses in careful detail, and he'd thought of everything necessary to secure them. It'd seemed so insignificant at the time – while Mithos and Kratos were building institutions, Yuan had merely been building places to put them.

But now, as he surveyed the ranch of his own design, he wondered if it'd been so useless after all.

"Awaiting your orders, sir!"

Yuan ignored the voice behind him, because he knew where Menalus was, and he knew how to get there.

The Desians at his back had to march quickly to keep up with his pace. He led them through hallways, he unlocked doors, he avoided hidden traps. No one was patrolling the corridors he was using, and the few renegades unfortunate enough to find themselves in his path were easily cut down.

It was all _so easy_.

Yuan went through the motions as if he was sleepwalking, and when he found himself in front of the final door, he was a little surprised. His fingers still reached for the keypad, and he typed in a code that could open any door built by Cruxis.

The door slid open.

Lord Menaius was a tall, stocky half-elf – and he did not look surprised to see them. "So," he said, when he saw Yuan. "You've come."

Yuan stepped into the room, surprised to see no security and no guards. "I have to say, I expected more than this."

"My men are all defending against your assault," the man said, wearily. He stood up and walked around his desk. "Shall I bow to you, Lord Yuan, or would that be too much?"

Yuan glanced over his shoulder, at the entire team of Desians hovering behind him. With these men, the fight would be fifteen to one. Menaius would not have a chance at all.

"Leave us," Yuan ordered.

The captain gave him a puzzled expression. "Sir?"

"Tell Kratos where I am," he explained flatly, "and get the hell out of here."

The Desians stared at him for a moment, stirring. It was irregular, sure, but Yuan knew they wouldn't dare disobey a direct command from one of the Seraphim, and sure enough, they left.

Yuan waited until the echoes of heavy footsteps faded, and then he faced Menaius.

The half-elf was standing his ground – there was no fear on his face. "My renegades will not go away."

"I know," Yuan said. His own words surprised him, even as he knew they were true. The seed of doubt had been planted, and because it was based in truth it would never die. Not matter what he, what Kratos, what Mithos himself did.

The truth was that Mithos did not serve the half-elves, that their lord and savior did not care about them. Mithos lived only for himself, and would continue to do so as long as it took to ensure a woman already killed would never die.

Menaius looked surprised. "If you know, then—"

"_Then_ it doesn't matter." Yuan had brought his weapon, his double bladed sword. He twirled it in front of himself with a flair, and then swung it behind his back. He was ready. "I don't care."

Menaius drew his sword.

It was the shortest, most important fight Yuan ever fought.

Yuan struck first, stepping forward and swinging his sword. Menalus parried awkwardly, ducking under Yuan's second strike, and then he took a step back.

Yuan snorted. Only a fool backpeddled in a fight – might as well admit you've lost already. He felt pity, but he took advantage of the misstep; he unleashed a flurry of swings and slashes, only pausing to give his opponent his fair turn.

Menaius blinked, and then he lunged forward. The attack was slow, clumsy, aimed high and wide. Lord Menaius simply wasn't trying anymore.

Yuan narrowed his eyes in concentration, and then he swung his weapon.

The blow caught Menaius across the torso, it shredded through his armor and cut flesh, Yuan knew because he could hear it. Menaius dropped his sword without a sound, his eyes were wide and his jaw was slack.

Yuan lowered his weapon.

"I do this…" Menaius looked down his chest, at the mess of blood and torn flesh. "Lord Yggdrasill… is wrong. That is what…" He slumped, supporting himself on his weapon, his breaths coming in rattling pants. "This is… what I know."

Yuan stepped toward him, he raised his hand and felt the warmth of electricity flow between his fingers. "I know," he said. "So do I."

He killed him with a flash of lightning; the body of the Cardinal hit the ground, heavy with the weight of his armor.

"That was neatly done."

Yuan turned suddenly, expecting a platoon of Desians, all witnesses to his spoken treason. Instead all he saw was Kratos, dressed in his white costume and spotted in red.

"Kratos, I—"

"I didn't expect you to reach this far, this soon," Kratos said. "I would have sent more men with you."

Yuan narrowed his eyes. "You—"

"I'll file a report immediately," the man said stiffly, and he turned to leave.

"Kratos, wait."

Kratos stopped in the doorway, turned to look again. "Lord Yggdrasill will be pleased," he said, and then he left.

He'd heard.

Not even Kratos was cold enough to send his friend to his death without any kind of expression, and Yuan knew that Kratos was not going to report his betrayal. That was outrageous, unthinkable – and yet, really, was it so different from everything he'd done before?

Kratos fought to preserve the situation as it was, exactly, to a fault. He would do absolutely nothing, and he did not know the meaning of irony.

Yuan laughed bitterly. He could not help it.

----

—_When you win a war_

_You celebrate by mourning._"

Tao Te Ching, Verse 31 


End file.
